


Melancholy

by capeswithhoods



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeswithhoods/pseuds/capeswithhoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The painter has been at a back table, uncharacteristically alone, and he's barely touched his wine, choosing instead to stare into its ruby depths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melancholy

The meeting is nearly over and Grantaire hasn't said a word - not that he usually does, at least nothing helpful to the cause, but everyone has noticed, despite no one saying anything. The painter has been at a back table, uncharacteristically alone, and he's barely touched his wine, choosing instead to stare into its ruby depths.

When Enjolras is finished speaking, Courfeyrac and Jehan approach him with amicable inquires about his mood. He waves them off with a smile that's almost obviously forced, and it doesn't even come close to his eyes. They hesitate, but don't press further, wishing him well as they depart.

Marius doesn't approach Grantaire, but he looks worried, too, wringing his hands together and casting glances over to his friend, unsure of what to say. "Someone should talk to him," he says, looking pointedly at Enjolras who is ignoring the entire affair in favour of packing his pamphlets and papers into his bag.

Bahorel sighs and shakes his head as he stands, towering over Marius and stretching his back out. "He doesn't need Enjolras right now." With that, he strides over to the painter's table and plops down into the chair opposite him, a kind smile on his lips.

"Bahorel," he says in quiet greeting, tipping the neck of his bottle toward his friend.

"R," Bahorel says with a small nod of his own. "Has the wine been unkind to you this evening?"

Grantaire shakes his head and swirls the wine around in his bottle, but he still doesn't take a drink. "Not particularly. I've not had much of a taste for it."

"Did something happen?" Bahorel asks, and the question is laden with unsaid inquiries about the _something_ , which they both know means _Enjolras_.

"No. Nothing like that," Grantaire says, and he sighs, looking away to let his gaze fall on the window, and the street outside is nearly empty due to the late hour. "It's nothing, really. No need to worry yourself."

"Something has you down, my friend. Something wine and a rousing speech from Apollo can't seem to cure." Bahorel is pushing, perhaps too much, but he's never seen Grantaire this melancholy, and he endeavours to ease whatever ails his friend's mind.

Grantaire allows himself a sardonic smile and finally takes a sip of wine. "I'm fine, Bahorel, I assure you."

"If you insist." He reaches forward and grabs Grantaire's bottle, which is released with no hesitation, and he takes a long swig before returning it. "Wanna go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?" Grantaire raises an eyebrow and he knows what Bahorel means by it, but it feels good to tease, even a bit.

"For drinks," Bahorel says gruffly. "And a _fight_ if we get lucky. It might make your mood less dour."

"My mood is fine," Grantaire mumbles, sipping at his wine to hide a frown.

"I didn't say it wasn't. Be down, be miserable, _feel_ however you want. I'm not going anywhere." Bahorel flashes a grin. "So if you wanna sit here and mope, I'll sit with you. But if you wanna go take it out on someone's face, I'll gladly lead the way."

Grantaire considers it for a moment before setting his bottle down on the table. "Then lead away, my friend."


End file.
